


His Singularity

by TheHuggamugCafe



Series: Soulmate AU [2]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Belial is ABSOLUTELY a tag warning all on his own, Blood, F/M, Light breathplay, Minor Injuries, Reader-Insert, Soulmates, There may be some reincarnated lovers found in this trash can at some point, threats to reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29600685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuggamugCafe/pseuds/TheHuggamugCafe
Summary: When you met him on the battlefield, you felt nothing but a desire to see him perish.
Relationships: Belial (Granblue Fantasy)/Reader
Series: Soulmate AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169456
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	His Singularity

**Author's Note:**

> I can write something that isn’t Persona 5 or Hazbin Hotel? Huh, how about that.
> 
> I’m not gonna lie: I was super nervous writing this degenerate bastard out; I’ve written my fair share of obscene scenes and equally depraved characters, but _Belial_ is a first for me.
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this and if you’d like to see more of it.
> 
> The title is subject to change, but it will stay if I can’t think of a better one.

Even with his claws stroking your jugular vein, and even though your throat is being gently pinched in his palm, you don’t think he’ll kill you. A thought only a fool thinks, you know this; the corpses of your friends surround you, scattered across the ground like broken toys, are a testament to the primal’s strength.

You swallow; the gulp is thick, sticking at the back of your throat. As if he’s mocking your hesitation, your fear, his lips curl up, revealing more of his teeth as he leers down at you.

“What’s wrong, Singularity? Out of energy already? And I was just getting into our little foreplay session, too.”

“Your depravity knows no bounds, Belial.”

Warm air fans your face as he laughs. As he cackles into your frightened scowl, you feel sweat forming on your crown. Though the sand beneath you grits against your elbows and gently digs into your skin through the various tears in your clothing, you ignore it in favour of not letting yourself be distracted by the situation you’re in right now.

“A compliment straight from the Singularity’s lips? I’m _honoured_.” Belial is practically purring his approval; his eyes flash, turning a murky hue that reminds you of blood-red rubies. “You spoil this primal being, darling.”

“Neither flattery _or_ patronizing will get you anywhere with me, you fallen heathen. Not even in the last moments of my life.”

He’ll kill you. He can— _will_ —bring your mortality to a swift and bloody end. Just as he’s done with your dear, irreplaceable friends. The people who trusted you enough to let you lead them into battle against the unchaste angel. The people who believed you when you assured them that with their help, you’d be able to defeat Belial. Now their corpses surround you and him: some are missing limbs; others are missing heads; the dying twilight paints their blood a morose shade, glinting as the sun cheekily winks one last goodbye at you as it dips below the dark horizon of the sea, slowly.

Surprisingly, Belial neither confirms nor denies that your life will be brought to an end by his hands. Instead he hums, raising his free hand and cupping your cheek with a gentleness that takes you aback. You don’t exhale a gasp; you don’t shout or whimper in confusion, in rage. You simply stare up at him, earning a laugh as the primal leans down; he’s so close that now, a mere few inches are all that separates his lips from knowing the soft warmth of yours.

You wonder for a moment if he’ll even care that Katalina’s blood smears your mouth, stains your chin—and no sooner does the thought cross your mind, the mere memory of the former general of the Empire makes your heart twist in pain. Your most recent memories of the icy-eyed woman mere hours ago, when you had been laughing, smiling with her are now ruined. She had promised that Belial would get to you only over her cold carcass, and that statement has come true.

“What is it about you that draws others to you, hm, my little Singularity?”

You don’t reply. You offer him a sluggish blink, a puzzled stare. You stiffen as your silence isn’t something he wants; he wants you to speak with your mouth, not with silence. You know how much he detests quiet and loathes peace.

 _Tough shit,_ you think, even as the hand that has a hold of your throat simply closes in.

The tapered ends of the fallen angel’s claws softly pinch your skin, threatening, _promising_ to draw blood; the flat of his palm is pressing against your windpipe, assuring you with such a simple gesture that yes, he _will_ take away your ability to breathe if you continue to push your luck.

“Now, now, bad girls don’t get rewarded, do they?”

“As if you are in any position to lecture _me_ about possessing virtues.”

But even so, knowing that he may—that he _will_ —very choke the life out of you isn’t enough to stop you from belittling him, sadly.

A grin slowly wrestles for control of his lips and just like the chaos he embodies, and flaunts so shamelessly, it wins.

“But virtues are rather boring, don’t you think, Singularity? I’d much rather possess _you_ , my dear.”

“ _Bastard_ ,” You’re practically spitting the word; it hisses past your bared teeth, leaving a poisonous aftertaste that rots your taste buds. “Don’t talk as if you _own me_. There’s no point to a cursed existence like yours!”

“I am cursed simply because I exist, you say?” He laughs like he’s just heard the funniest thing in his immortal life. You don’t know if you can loathe him, hate his very existence more than you already do, but you’ll be damned if you don’t try.

“Then are _you_ a blessing to a debased soul, such as myself? But, I wonder…”

You’re reminded of the tapered claws pressing against your throat. Too late do you remember of the fact that his free hand is lazily trailing the sweaty skin of your collarbone, the tips of his talons tracing across the expanse of bare flesh they find there.

“How far can a pure soul like yours fall? It’s something I would love to witness, my sweet Singularity.”

**Author's Note:**

> …
> 
> …
> 
> …
> 
> Reader, you know you are fucked in _so_ many ways if _Belial_ is your soulmate.


End file.
